


Ruby Slippers and Apple Tree

by Bloody_Vixen



Series: Someone Think Of The Children [1]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Grief, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 22:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20664623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloody_Vixen/pseuds/Bloody_Vixen
Summary: You didn't need to prove you're brave - you had touched a dead frog after all. But a candy that large requires a far greater dare and what more could be more terrifying than plucking that apple from the tree in the Church no kids are supposed to go.It was a Cadbury Bar and you are going to win it.Or that one time when a kid discovers that ghosts have churches and they have a skeleton for a priest.





	Ruby Slippers and Apple Tree

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came because of reasons. You could say I had wondered if I could write a fluff piece. So this was born. Half because I wanted to try something and because you can never have enough fluff in the Ghost Fandom.

It had sounded like a good idea at that time.

Well, it wasn’t because it wasn’t an idea and more like, “I bet you wouldn’t dare go near that spooky church!”

You wanted to ignore the taunt – you were six years old – and you just won a Snicker’s bar from touching that dead frog on the road. You don’t need to prove _anything_. You were the bravest – end of story.

You taunter – some kid who is like – four and half – gave you a glare as you continued to chomp down on your delicious sugar rush. Yeah your mum would throw a fit when she finds out but at the moment, you had just touched a dead frog.

You were trau-traumer-it was _gross._

The thick golden bit melts in your mouth as you hummed, thinking about whether Mr. Yun and Lady Pretty would be up for some tea party later on. You wondered if you could somehow get that orange cake mum had made but said it was for grown-ups and that, “A young lady should never steal food. It’s unbecoming.”

Also because she’d use the spoon and you think she had found where you had thrown the latest one away. Which was why you’re out here, nibbling down the last bit of your bar while a brat follows you around. You could hear that tell-tale sound of, “YOUNG LADY!” And you _bolted. _

It’s tiring being old. You have so much responsibility. And you can’t even drive yet.

Bummer.

Suddenly a Mars Bars floats in front of your eyes.

Your hand jolts forward but your taunter snatched it back, his gap tooth sparkling – a tooth brusher! – as he grins at you.

“I bet you a Mars Bar.”

You think of that weird church down the street. The only place that looked like one of those Disney castles but scarier but you don’t think it’s any scarier than the church you had to go every Sunday.

You once asked your mum, why can’t we just go there because the one you do go to is like a bajillion light years away and smells _weird_ but your mum knelt down, her face was so serious and told you to _never, EVER_, go near that place. And that if _anyone_ asks you too, you must scream and run for a responsible adult.

She made you _pinkie promise_ and that is very serious.

But Mars Bars though…

You frown, thinking of breaking a _pinkie promise_ and how then Santa would _never_ bring her that big fairy tale she wanted – the one Lizbeth said, has like blood and skeletons and the creepy _real_ fairytale stuff.

Then he took out a huge slab of Cadbury.

Your eyes grow big and you think about how you’d be full for like, _years_. Pinkie promise is not match for that.

* * *

Now, according to the laws of economics the taunter said, Mars Bars if you touch the walls surrounding the creepy church but for the Cadbury bar, you need to climb the tree – the only one that with its branch hung low beyond the brick walls and grab one of the apples there. For some reason the apple is only growing on the other side – within the church and you had to stop and wonder if it was worth it.

Cadbury bar though. Your parents had told you that you could not have any chocolate of that size – the last time you did you threw a wicked tantrum and then vomited all over Aunt Lee’s carpet and she was _so_ mad. I mean, _she _gave it to you, it wasn’t your fault.

And you wouldn’t be eating it alone, Mr. Yun and Lady Pretty would be sharing, so it’s not you eating the _entire_ bar. After getting the Mars Bars because deal’s a deal, you started your climb. The tree groaned and crackled but you were a light-weight and it didn’t snap or anything and all you could think about is that Cadbury bar, that one red apple on that one branch and your feet moved.

It was hard, you think climbing in a dress, but you are a girl and you can do it, dress or not!

You were concentrating so hard you don’t hear your taunter gasping as he hears someone’s footsteps, you don’t hear him bolt away, because he is only four and a half and he’s just a kid – he suddenly realized. In another time, you would climb down and beat him with your slipper – because you were climbing this tree, breaking a _pinkie promise_ and he didn’t even have the bravery to stay?

Yeah, he was getting your slipper. And yours have lights when you walk.

Sweat trickled down your back and into your face – gross but not dead frog gross – all you could think about is that Cadbury bar and how it’s gonna taste so delicious and you will be sick but you’re gonna eat _them all_.

Finally, at the last branch you slowly inched like some caterpillar – which is also gross but it can’t be cause caterpillars become butterflies _somehow_ – that one stupid apple within reach when you hear it.

No, you hear _him_.

You looked down and down and down and _down_ and you suddenly realized that you’re very much afraid of heights.

There’s someone down there, you could only see the top of his hair as he tossed a weird hat from his head. Yet, despite the fear shooting in your body, about – OH WOW the ground is really far, far away – you could not help but notice his face was too white and not just white people white but just white. He was stomping – like a kid – or as mum says, very rude and immature; young ladies _do not_ stomp – before sinking against the tree trunk and his face slumped forwards into the knees he raised up his chest.

OH MY GOD – your last bit of bravery thought.

This church has _skeletons _for priests.

This church is _haunted. _

You wanted to scream but any sudden movement causes the branch – which felt totally huge and strong like a few minutes ago – to groan alarmingly and your arms and legs curled further, praying, hoping that it’ll hold cause OH MY GOD – this church is haunted and it has a _skeleton priest _and that is AWESOME.

Wait, no, that is bad. You read books; you know what living skeleton means. Lizbeth said they come after people to kill them and steal their skin cause they don’t have any.

You couldn’t see if this one has skin or not because he’s like covered in that dress and you could only see his face. It never occurred to you that maybe he _won’t_ steal your skin because, despite your protests, you were like, barely knee high – something taunter liked to lord over despite your age difference.

You’re tiny and could barely fit his face. Surely Father Skeleton won’t steal yours, right? Cause you bathe every day and your mum never had to ask cause you _love_ bathing and cause deep down you’re part mermaid. But uh, you like your skin and you don’t want a skeleton to steal them.

You breathe – and mermaids can climb trees and climb down – you try to say. Your hands and body is shaking horribly though but you have to be brave. Slowly, you look ahead, you remembered Lizbeth saying not to look down if you’re scared – it’s all in the mind. You wish she was here but you can’t have that and your fear of losing your skin overran your fear of heights.

You breathed and then scoot backwards.

The branch creaked again and you muffled an ‘eep!’ before you realized something.

One of your slippers was loose.

The world slows down – like one of those gun movies you dad loves to watch and makes your promise _never_ to tell your mum that you’re watching it with him – your slipper – pink and has real rubies were dangling from your toes. You whined, trying to flip it back but it only made it slip further and then…

…it was falling and you could only watch in absolute horror as it twirls, sparkling, like it’s some sparkling thing and down and down…

** _FWHAP_ **

“CHE CAZZO!”

You were going to die. The skeleton man stared at the offending slipper and you could tell he was confused as he rubbed his head and looked up.

Oh, he has a face and skin. That’s good; he’s not going to steal yours!

“Cosa ci – what are you _doing_ up there?”

You wanted to say, for a chocolate bar but the only thing that escaped your mouth was a tiny whimper. You’re not scared, it’s just – wow it’s so high up.

The man massages his head, his hand still holding your fallen slipper. You wanted to tell him that it’s made of real rubies and please, please sir don’t steal my skin, I like my skin, I bathe and shower everyday – NO, uh, I _stink_, my skin is awful and not good for stealing, please Mr. Skeleton, Sir, I promise I’ll never, ever come near your haunted church. I _pinkie swear_ it!

The man just tilts his head as your silence and you noticed another weird thing. One of his eyes is like, _white_, just pure white and not like when your Pop Pops’ eyes, this one doesn’t look blind.

“Can you get down?” he asked and…he has a weird accent. He sounds like one of those Mafia men.

Oh no.

_Oh no!_

If he can’t steal your face then he’s gonna make you sleep with the fishes!

Something in you just breaks, you started crying.

Hot globs of tears and snot starts to run down your face as you pray and wish for mummy and dad to come save you cause you _don’t_ want to die and you’re so, so sorry for breaking a pinkie promise. You swear on Mr. Yun, you’d never, _ever, break _them again.

The man’s face widened with surprise as you sobbed and heaved, words babbled from your lips as you wish for someone, _anyone_, to please save her. You scrunched your eyes shut, fear making you wish you’re at home when you feel something - _a hand –_ tug your feet.

You peeked through your eyes, confused before looking back and you see the skeleton man, who had climbed up and is now perched gingerly on your branch, one arm stretched out to pat your foot.

_“NOOOOOOO, MUMMY, MUMMY, I’M SORRY!”_

“Wait, uh, shuu, shuu, _darn it_, kid, kid _stop moving_.” He said in what would have been a soft tone but he was eyeing you and the branch his knee was perched on.

You lost it, you were screaming and wailing, trying to move away from skeleton man, forgetting that you’re way high up and the branch you’re on is not as firm as it looked. You don’t see his eyes widening when a loud thunderous crack came from the tree and the world goes action movie.

The world falls beneath you and you let out another loud shriek before his arm shot out and grabbed your hand. You swung away from the ground and smacked into the trunk with a loud ‘oof’. You stopped crying, half stunned from the impact and another half from not being dead.

You blinked, mouth gaping when you hear the skeleton man grunt, pulling you up with surprise ease. He tucks you beneath his armpit and you blinked again before he muttered, “Right.” And jumps off.

You gasped but like an acrobat, his feet bounced left and right against the trunk before landing safely onto the firm, solid, ground. You feel him carefully placing you on that sweet, sweet ground, his hands brushing away the random twigs and leaves cause in your dress. Part of you wanted to flinch, to scream STRANGER DANGER, STOP TOUCHING ME, but you had just survived a near death experience.

You could see ghosts now.

Well, no, it’s just Mr. Skeleton who had knelt down and still had to lean forward to reach your eyes, and he looked…

“Are you all right, signoria?” he asked gently. And oh wow.

Mr. Skeleton is very pretty.

“Uh,” wait, mum said a lady is always thankful and uh, you nodded and then did a curtsy. You tried to remember how Ariel and Belle curtsied, one foot out and hold your skirt and bow.

“Thank you Mister Skeleton, for saving my life.” As you stood back again, you could see his face twist in confusion, when you decided something. You can’t give him a kiss, no, mum said that is for your husband and when you are married, and sadly you are not married, so a Mars Bars would have to do.

You patted your pockets, hoping you didn’t lose it. If not you may have to get taunter to climb up and give you his Cadbury bar. It was the least you could do. After a while you found it, still unsquashed before standing straight and offering it to Mr. Skeleton. He blinked before slowly, as if unsure, he raised his hand and you placed the Mars Bars onto his open palm.

“This is for saving me.” You explained as his fingers curled around the candy. “It’s the big one though, so you can’t have them in one go.” You quickly added and the man blinked again before taking the bar and carefully placed it into his pocket.

He gives you a shy smile, “Grazie.”

You frowned and your mouth moved before you could stop yourself, “My name’s not Gracie.”

He giggled before he covered his mouth, “I meant, thank you. Grazie means thank you in Italian.”

“Oh.” Well, now you sounded stupid and rude. “I’m sorry. My name is –” and you stopped, your mummy’s words ringing in your ear about revealing your name to strangers and although Mr. Skeleton had just saved her, he _is_ still a stranger.

“Uh, um, I’m sorry but my mum says I can’t tell strangers my name.” you said, “B-but, it’s not Gracie!”

He chuckled and it sounded so nice and reminded you of bells and you started to blush.

“Forgive me, that is true. It’s rude of me not to introduce myself. Hello, not Gracie, my name is Emeritus the Third. This is…” and his brows frowned before he smoothed it back again, “This is my father’s church.”

Your eyes widened because his name has ‘the third’ so that means he’s royal or rich cause only they would name a kid ‘the third’ and WOW his dad owns a church?

“That’s so cool! Your dad owns a church?”

He laughed again but this time it didn’t sound like bells, it sounded sad. “Yes, he does.”

Then he trailed off, his eyes, so odd with that white one, seemed to stare into nothing. Like how, Uncle Mike would get whenever he thinks no one’s looking. You remembered your Uncle Mike, how he’d always try to slip a candy or two or take his time to read you books. There’s no Aunt Mike, but there is Uncle Mike’s Uncle Manny, who mum said passed away before you were born.

You used to think you had done something to upset him when he gets like that, but mum explained that it wasn’t your fault, it’s just Uncle Mike is grieving. You asked if it’s like a boo-boo? Mum shook her head, then continued, “It’s like one, but it’s something deep inside and you can’t kiss it to make it go away. You just have to be there and listen for them. They will come back.”

Deep for a four year old, and years later you’d realize it wasn’t to you she was explaining but you tried; when you see Uncle Mike trail off you’d shuffle to him and just sit down and place your tiny hand on his.

“Uncle Mike, I’m here and I can listen, if it’s okay?” And Uncle Mike’s eyes would widen before he’d give you a sad, smile.

“No, my darling princess, you’re young.” And he’d pat your tiny hand, his hands so large and warm, “You just need to be happy and enjoy life. Now go, play with your cousins, Uncle Mike’s just tired.”

He was lying – even as a child – you knew he was lying, but you’d wait, maybe you’d try next time. You can show him, you could listen and be there and maybe he won’t grieve so much.

Except you don’t see him again, a few days later, a date you’d find out was Uncle Manny’s death anniversary, Uncle Mike passed away in his sleep. He just went to bed and then…simply did not wake up. You hear some Aunt and Uncles said, his heart just broke.

The grief had killed him.

Mr. Emeritus had that same, tired, sad look and before you knew it, your hand moved to touch his.

“Mr. Emeritus, if, if you’re sad, I can listen,” you said quietly, impressed that you kept your voice steady. His eyes snapped back at you, his lips opened with surprise and he tried to move away but you held firm.

“NO!” And he freezes, “Um, I, you are sad. I – I can listen.”

You looked into his eyes, they were green and white and although he was still painted like a skeleton, he doesn’t seem scary anymore.

Just…sad.

Mr. Emeritus’s browns furrowed and his face seemed to twist before, suddenly, he collapsed, his free hand clutched his chest and then he started crying. You were taken aback because you had _never_ seen a grown man cry this way. This was like when Lizbeth broke her arm and she was wailing and screaming. Well, Mr. Emeritus wasn’t screaming, but he was gasping and shaking, clutching his chest, like it hurt.

You tried to remember what Mummy would do, and you moved to hold him, just rubbing his back, like Dad does, saying, “It’s okay.”

Mr. Emeritus shook and trembled as he bent down to the ground, his fist clench and unclenched but the longer you stood there, carefully patting him, like your Mummy would, he gradually stopped shaking, his sobs became more and more hiccuppy before he finally wheezed and pushed himself from the ground.

You kept your mouth shut as he surfaced, his skeleton face – no, his makeup, was now streaked with tears. You could see pink skin underneath and you realized he wasn’t a skeleton at all. He was just wearing makeup. You patted your pockets again, hoping for a tissue but Mr. Emeritus pulled out a handkerchief and began rubbing his eyes, sniffing and hiccupping before he finally composed himself.

You gave his back one final rub before stepping back, watching as the tears dried up before he turned up and smiled at her.

“Thank you, not-Gracie,” he said. You nodded, hoping he’s not so sad now, you know you felt the same after crying like that.

He sat there on his haunches, staring at the stained handkerchief, trailing off like Uncle Mike and you just placed your hand on his.

“Today would have been my mother’s birthday.”

You tilted your head – a birthday is a happy occasion, right? So why is Mr. Emeritus so sad? As if hearing your thoughts he continued.

“She died when I was about your age. And I just, it’s silly, I miss her. It’s been years but I still miss her.”

You could understand that. Your Mummy could be scary at times, but she was also there when you injured your knee or when you had a bad dream, holding you safe and whispering funny stories and telling you how to be an elegant lady. You couldn’t imagine a life without Mum and suddenly you felt like crying too.

But as Mr. Emeritus smiled, rubbing his nose, you held on. You shouldn’t cry, Mummy was still here but Mr. Emeritus’s mum isn’t.

He chuckled again before stretching his arm behind his back. Leaning as he stared at the sun.

“She’d be furious to know I cried to a young child.”

You couldn’t help but respond, “I’m six. I’m not a kid you know.”

Another giggle and then he sits back, placing his elbow onto his thighs.

“Forgive me, not Gracie. You are indeed a grown up.”

Finally, someone understands.

“It’s true. I once walked two blocks down and bought myself an ice cream. I’m the only one who did that in the neighbourhood. And next year I’ll be in school!” You don’t mention Lizbeth but she’s like, practically an adult and you don’t want to look like an idiot in front of Mr. Emeritus. Especially, when he laughs like that: like bells.

“Two blocks? I guess your mother was very angry when she found out?” He teased, propping his hand onto his chin.

You remembered the spoon and how it hurt to sit after that.

“Y-yeah. I was grounded for a long, long time.” Two weeks, you had like, to clean so many plates after that.

Mr. Emeritus smiled and it was a very pretty smile before he turned to look at the tree. The broken branch laying on its roots.

“My mother planted this. She said it was the only thing she planted that grew. What were you doing up there?”

You explained that someone dared you to get the apple because Cadbury bar was on the line. Also because everyone thought the church is haunted and stuff and you thought it was because why were you wearing a Skeleton makeup, Mr. Emeritus?

He smiled and explained: at his father’s church all his sons must wear the makeup. It’s a sign of rank. Why skeleton makeup? Because they are the Emeritus Church of Ghost and the skeleton is their symbol.

Your eyes must have widened with awe because you had never heard of a Church for Ghosts before. But that does make sense, after all some ghosts are Christians and they probably still have to go on Sundays before going to heaven. Mr. Emeritus gave you a funny look before shaking his head and just giggled again.

“Ah, to be a kid again…I mean…young adult.” He amended when he saw your expression.

A comfortable silence passes between you as Mr. Emeritus stares at the tree. Then it hits you.

“Mr. Emeritus, can I have my slipper please?” The man tilted his head but stood up and picked up your slipper. You made to grab for it but he knelt down again, like a prince and held it out like it was Cinderella’s glass slipper. You held his shoulder for balance before he slips it into your feet.

“Thank you and…” then you bent down and started tugging one of your rubies. You were going to save it to buy a new bike but you think this is way more important.

Mr. Emeritus looked curious before you held up the ruby to his hand. He holds it up with awe.

“It’s real, you know, and um, maybe you could buy your mum something for her grave. My mum planted a rose bush for my grandma and I think, I think it’d be nice for your mum to have something on hers.”

You thought about how beautiful grandma’s roses were, she had loved them and mum thought it’d be nice to plant one on her grave.

“I will treasure this, not Gracie. Thank you.”

You beamed, he was not grieving, you hope when you hear a bell, a real life bell, ringing in the distance.

“Ah, I’m afraid you must go home soon. Your mother would be worried.”

And oh boy she would. You brushed off whatever dirt and twigs, because the last thing you need is to come home dirty. As you did, Mr. Emeritus snapped his fingers, “Ah, wait. You came here for a reason, no?”

You wanted to ask but before the words came out, Mr. Emeritus walks back to the broken branch and plucked the apple from its stems. He rubbed it on his shirt before offering it to you.

AW YES. THAT CADBURY BAR IS _YOURS._

“Thank you, Mr. Emeritus!”

“It’s the least I could do,” smiling once more before the two of you walked towards the imposing church entrance.

Mr. Emeritus opened a small gate by its side and you stepped out, back onto the streets.

“Thank you again, Mr. Emeritus.”

The man gives you a warm grin before bowing once, “No, thank you and be safe.”

“I will! And bye!”

The man gave you a wave, watching you walk off before closing the gate and vanishing inside. You yawned as you neared your house, feeling so tired and – your stomach growled loudly.

Oh, no. You looked at the sky and saw that it was turning red. It’s must be almost dinner time. It felt quaint to think of such things like dinners, when you just survived a near death experience, found out that ghosts have to go to church (bummer) and that you had also touched a very gross dead frog. But you also helped a person not grieve and you are so going to track down taunter and get that Cadbury chocolate.

And…you realized…you made a friend.

So, with a hum in your voice, you skipped back home, thinking that today had been a very good day.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Missing Child Protocol](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22657972) by [Merytsetesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merytsetesh/pseuds/Merytsetesh)


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